


Tortilla Española

by MissLit



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hannigram - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6162193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLit/pseuds/MissLit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is a therapist working with a patient he's finding exceedingly difficult, namely because this patient is insistent that he's in love with Will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tortilla Española

“I want to try something different to end our session with.”

Hannibal shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. He raised his eyes to the other man and put on a delicate smile.

“I’d like it if I could show you some photos, and I’d like you to tell me what you think of when you see them.”

Amused, Hannibal cupped his chin in his hand. “A word association game,” he answered. “My favorite. I haven’t done one in a while.”

Dr. Graham looked up from the photos he had been shuffling through. “You’ve done this before?” he asked. “That’s good.” Tapping the small pile on his clipboard, Will slowly turned them around so Hannibal could see the photo of a red ball. “I want you to answer as quickly as possible. Don’t think. Just reply.”

Hannibal nodded, straightening. “Childhood,” he decided. Will nodded, flipping next to a photo of a swing set. “School.” The next photo showed two children standing on a beach, hand in hand. “Siblings.”

Nodding along, Will hesitated for the next photo. “These next few will be difficult. I want you to persevere and tell me what you think.” When Hannibal gave him a look of understanding, Will flipped to the next. A photo of a seemingly innocuous pocket watch. Hannibal visibly stiffened. 

“Father,” he said.

“Good,” Will murmured, flipping to the next. A photo of a mansion that had the style of a gothic castle. Hannibal’s mouth quivered before he answered. 

“Loneliness.” The next photo was of a kitchen knife, lying beside a tomato cut in half. Hannibal ignored this photo, looking up at Will with a new, pleasant smile in place. “Dr. Graham, if you knew my answers before showing the photos, why did you bother doing so?”

Will lowered the pictures so they were facing downward again. It was true, he knew what to expect from them. Particularly the last three. “I wanted to know,” Will asserted. “Because it is important to remember why you’re here. Sometimes you seem to forget the reason you’re being sent to therapy, Hannibal.”

A hush fell between them. The large office seemed to echo with silence that rang in Hannibal’s ear. He shifted his position again, leaning back in the chair and letting one leg fall open. “I know why I am being sent to therapy, Dr. Graham,” he insisted. “Else I would assume myself cured.”

Leaning forward, Will reminded, “Often times you do.”

“Only because you distract me,” Hannibal responded. He had that look on his face again that Will dreaded during every session. That small tilt of his lips which showed he was thinking hard again, not about therapy, but about his therapist. “Have you considered my offer, Dr. Graham?” he asked, adjusting the sleeve of his sweater. 

Will leaned back again, making a note of the last two interactions. “What offer was that?”

Hannibal glanced at him, pausing in his motions. “Come now. You remember. I’ve asked you to come for dinner now too many times to count,” he pointed out, his smile widening. “Each time you refuse me. I’m beginning to feel wounded.”

Nodding, Will replied, “Yes I do remember now. And if you’ll remember I tell you the same thing every time; it wouldn’t be appropriate.” Will’s heart was pounding. Sometimes he thought Hannibal could tell when he got overexcited like this.

His patient stood suddenly, crossing the room to his desk and flipping idly through some books there. “You continue to say it would not be appropriate. But you never tell me you dislike the offer,” Hannibal claimed. “I promise you, I am quite the cook. You would like it. I’ll make you something divine.”

Now that Hannibal was out of his sight, Will allowed a smile to play along his face. “So I’ve been told. And I’m flattered, but I can’t.” He could hear Hannibal stop in his idle movements and begin to cross the room again. “Your time is nearly up,” Will added. “Is there anything else you’d like me to know before your next session?”

Hannibal placed his hands on the arms of Will’s chair, leaning close. Will tried hard not to react. Reacting only made him feel validated. It was important to keep their relationship professional, strictly doctor-patient. Despite how charming Hannibal was, Will couldn’t give in to it or it could ruin everything. “Your pupils are dilated, Doctor,” Hannibal cooed. “I know a lot about how to tell if someone accepts your advances. It’s too bad you will not allow me to touch you. If your pulse and temperature are high as well, it means you love me.”

Will’s heart skipped a beat. He was exceedingly glad Hannibal wasn’t allowed to touch him, and even more grateful that the other man had accepted and abided by these terms. So far. “You’re too close,” Will rasped. “I must ask you to take your seat.” He waited to raise his eyes back to Hannibal’s face until the other man was safely across the room.

“Must I confess again?” Hannibal teased. He crossed his legs, gripping his elevated knee in his laced hands. Will hated this part of the sessions. Sometimes it didn’t come. Most times he opened with it. Will had been certain he’d gotten out of it this time.

“I’ll say again,” Will answered, “That I cannot return your sentiment. You are my patient. There isn’t any way I could make that possible.”

Hannibal seemed pleased with this answer, grinning. “You see? I’ve noticed now… You never say ‘no.’ You never tell me to stop, you only tell me that it would be inappropriate.” His foot bounced excitedly as he continued. “From the moment I met you I knew we would be perfect. I love you, Will. And now I know that you love me.”

Clearing his throat, Will set his pad aside. “Hannibal, do not make more of this than there is.” He looked troubled, and the expression on his face gave his patient pause. Slowly, Hannibal lowered his leg back to the ground. “You told me the very first time you met me that you were in love with me. To me… That is a part of your disorder. Don’t you understand?” 

This part was always difficult.

“You have a problem disconnecting from others. Because of your sister’s murder you form strong bonds with people very quickly,” Will explained for what should have been the fifteenth time. “You think you’re in love, and you insist on doing everything to be with and help that person, even at the risk of yourself. You’re here because of that.”

An obsessive love disorder was a difficult thing to diagnose. Often it simply meant the person was overly attached to their romantic partner, but over time it could become a problem. Hannibal’s problem had led to a suicide attempt when his partner left him. Since his release from the hospital he’d been seeing Will for it, and had quickly formed a bond with him. Too quickly. 

‘I feel as though we were fated to meet,’ Hannibal had said after only twenty minutes in Will’s office. Over time it had grown worse. It was to the point where Will was considering recommending him to a new therapist, but the fear that Hannibal would make another attempt on his life as a result was ever present.

Hannibal had fallen silent, looking down at his sweater sleeve. Will’s heart went out to this man. He loved to a fault, a deadly fault, and a part of Will wished he could reciprocate that love. But he knew it wasn’t real. Hannibal didn’t mean the things he said, he only said them because he had a deep longing to be loved. 

The timer went off. Will grabbed it, turning the dial to silence it. “… Do you need to schedule a session sooner than next week?” he asked, wanting to keep an eye on Hannibal. The man had already stood and was getting his coat on. “Hannibal?” Will prompted, standing as well.

When he turned back, Hannibal was smiling again. “No, I think a week is enough,” he replied. After a pause he added, “I really do wish you could come to dinner. I’m making Tortilla Española.” Everything Hannibal made sounded fancy and complicated. Will shook his head, but offered a reassuring smile.

“Maybe someday. When you’re feeling better,” Will insisted. As Hannibal headed to the door, Will put a hand on his arm. He’d never touched him before and he immediately felt embarrassed by the slip. Hannibal, for his part, stepped out of Will’s grip before looking at him for an explanation. “I… I’m going to call someone on your contacts list,” Will murmured. “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. Is that alright?”

Hannibal smiled. “Dr. Graham, you are always looking out for me in the best ways… You may call someone to keep me from myself. Thank you.”

Nodding, Will opened the door. He had twenty minutes now before his next patient. Running a hand through his hair once the door closed after Hannibal, Will sucked in a few nervous breaths. Just twenty minutes to calm his racing heart.


End file.
